


Heir to Darkness

by Viari



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-19 01:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4727465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viari/pseuds/Viari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumplestiltskin sacrifices his life to save his son’s; but in doing so, he anoints Neal as the new Dark One. How will this turn of events affect the Wicked Witch’s plans for Storybrooke? AU from 3x15 “Quiet Minds”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

### 

Prologue

_At first there is only darkness._

_It is a living thing, wrapped tight around him, closer and more intimate than a lover. It fills his senses, oozing in and out of every pore. Within its embrace he loses all sense of time, of space and direction, of self._

_No, that isn’t entirely true, because he is aware enough to remember dying and to know that wherever he is now, it certainly isn’t dead._

Rumplestiltskin…

_It isn’t a voice exactly. More like an echo inside his own head, though he isn’t even sure if he has a head or a body. Whether a product of memory or of the darkness, he recognizes the not-quite-voice. The eerie half-whisper of the seer child calling out to him, setting him on the path to his doom._

Rumplestiltskin, son of a coward…

_Another memory, ripe with shame. Fingers slipping from his as he scrambles to get away from the portal. Damning his boy to centuries alone because he can’t go back to being powerless. The darkness presses in, squeezing where his ears ought to be, gripping his heart like a vise. And then, suddenly, the sensation of being lifted or expelled or—_

Birthed.

_The pitch dark begins to fade, and he hears a baby cry out. He knows that cry; it is imprinted on his subconscious, etched deep in his bones from countless days and nights spent caring for his infant son. Baelfire. His precious boy, the one who stole his heart the instant he laid eyes on him. Where is he? He can’t let him cry. He can’t leave him alone, not this time._

_Finally, the darkness recedes, peeling off of him in a thick glob and pooling at his feet. His senses return to him in a rush that leaves him momentarily dumbstruck. His mind flails about, searching for the word to describe what he is experiencing, what he_ is _. Other words come to him at first: wretched, broken, weak, villain, Dark One. In this moment, however, there is another, more important facet of his being, one that makes all else fade._

_Alive. He is_ alive _._

 

* * *

“Rumple?”

The black liquid at his feet disappeared into the snowy ground. He lifted his head – for he did indeed have a head now – toward the sound of that angelic voice. “Belle?” he whispered, still shocked that he could speak, that he could be standing before her. Snowflakes freckled her dark hair, and the fog of her breath surrounded her in an almost ethereal manner. How lovely and perfect she appeared in the waning light. She gazed back at him, her expression equal amounts joy, disbelief, and worry. And that was when he saw who she held in her arms. Rumplestiltskin’s heart plummeted.

“Bae?” He hurried over to the place where Belle had knelt alongside his son. Bae was alive, but barely. He hardly responded when Rumplestiltskin pulled him into his arms. “No, Bae.”

“Poor Baelfire.” Rumplestiltskin snapped his head up at the sound of that voice and saw a familiar figure entering the clearing. The Wicked Witch of the West strutted toward the center circle and smirked. “Just couldn’t learn from his father’s mistakes,” she continued. “He wanted so badly to get back to his son. Couldn’t see the forest for the trees.”

Rumplestiltskin raised his right hand, realizing as he did so that he was holding his dagger in it. He pointed the blade at the witch. “You did this,” he spat out. “You tricked him!”

The witch feigned innocence. “All I did was pass on some vital information – with the help of a friend – and then your son did the rest.”

“You didn’t tell him the price.”

“Oops.” The witch tilted her head and gave him a pitying smile. Rumplestiltskin could have choked her. “It’s a sin of omission, love. Although I would have thought it was rather obvious. A life for a life.”

Bae moaned, and Rumplestiltskin gripped him tighter. “It’s gonna be all right, son.”

Zelena frowned. “I do doubt that.”

He could feel her magic encircling them, waiting to strike, to take his dagger the moment his guard was down. “I’m not gonna let him go,” he said.

The witch turned her greedy eyes on the dagger. “You and I both know the amount of magic it would take to slow his demise. You can focus on that, or you can fight me. You have to make a choice, I’m afraid.”

As the words sank in, Rumplestiltskin became hyperaware of his surroundings: he felt every gust of cold wind against his face, saw the details of the snowflakes landing on the blade of his dagger, sensed Belle’s presence at his shoulder.

He felt the incredible slowness of Bae’s heartbeat beneath his fingertips.

Zelena held up one green hand and examined her fingernails. “What’s it going to be, Rumple? The dagger or your son? You can’t hold on to both.”

She was right, of course. All magic came with a price, and it was time to pay up. If he held onto the dagger, Bae would die. If he released the dagger, Zelena would control him, and he would only be able to delay Bae’s death.

There was only one way he could save Bae and keep the power of the Dark One out of the witch’s grasp.

“You’re right,” Rumplestiltskin said quietly as he pressed the dagger into Bae’s hand. Positioning the tip of the blade against his heart, he looked up at Belle and flashed a sad smile. “I love you, Belle.”

A few yards away, Zelena lunged forward. “No!”

Fire struck the witch, but before Rumplestiltskin could look for the source, he threw his weight upon the dagger. The blade tore through his flesh, and as it did so he felt the burden of his curse lifting, like a veil thrown off of his soul.

A pair of arms caught him, and when he lifted his head he saw Bae’s face close to his. Rumplestiltskin gazed into his son’s eyes, remembering the first time he’d looked into them so many centuries ago. His boy. His brave boy who had always hated and fought against dark magic. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “Forgive me, Bae. It was the best I could do.” He wouldn’t forgive this, though. He couldn’t.

Bae said nothing as he laid Rumplestiltskin’s head in Belle’s lap. The former Dark One tried to smile at his true love. She cradled his head and leaned down to kiss him. Her tears splashed against his cheeks.

Somewhere nearby he heard a high-pitched shriek, and then he and Belle were encircled by dark smoke. A moment later, they were in his old castle, in the library he’d given her. Bae reappeared at his side, the dagger clutched tight in his hand.

Rumplestiltskin drew in a ragged breath. These were his last moments with the two people he loved most. “I’m sorry, Belle,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I have to leave you again.”

Belle touched her forehead to his. “I love you, Rumplestiltskin. Forever.”

He shifted his gaze to his son, whose skin had already begun to take on an inhuman palor. Bae’s eyes were full of anger and confusion and – above all else – pain.

“Bae.” He reached a hand out to his son. Bae stared at the outstretched fingers for a second before taking them in his.

“Why, Papa?” He sounded so old, so worn down.

Rumplestiltskin squeezed Bae’s hand. He felt the last of his strength leeching out of his body. “You’re my son,” he answered. “Couldn’t let you… pay my price.”

He couldn’t hold on any longer. Darkness crept around the edge of his vision. He had to get these last words out.

“Remember… any curse… can be broken.” He closed his eyes and exhaled. “I love you, Bae.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this about two weeks after "Quiet Minds" aired and worked on it that spring and summer before life got in the way. Watched the fourth season even though I didn't really want to, and that probably sucked away even more of my enthusiasm. Then the finale aired, and Emma became the Dark One; and it got me thinking about this little story I had started writing a year earlier. Now that trailers and news for season five are surfacing, I feel like maybe it's time to dust this thing off and actually commit to posting it. Full disclosure: I have three kids under age five, and I don't write nearly as often as I once did. I'm trying to remedy that, but I still have several writing projects vying for my attention, so there's that. I don't update frequently, but when I do, I try my hardest to make it a quality chapter. And hey, this is my first time writing in this fandom, so that's cool, right? Hope you stick around for the ride, however long it may be!


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long! I had some unexpected issues with my computer, then I was on vacation and unable to post. Also, I had a hard time finding a good place to end the chapter. It was originally over 7,000 words, which I know would have been great for some of you, but maybe not for everyone. So I hope it turned out okay!

### 

Chapter One

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Neal Cassidy looked at the small group of people gathered at the foot of his hospital bed and hesitated. From the looks on their faces, it seemed like they were expecting bad news. He returned his gaze to Emma Swan, who was standing at his left side.

“I remember you and Henry crossing the town line in the yellow Bug and then Regina’s magic washing over us. Next thing I knew I was waking up in a cage in a cellar back here in Storybrooke.”

Emma’s eyes widened a little. “You were at the witch’s house?”

Before Neal could respond, David Nolan – Emma’s father and the original Prince Charming – moved to stand at Emma’s side. “Did you see her? Do you know who she is?”

“Hold on,” Neal said, trying to sit up a little straighter. “What witch? What’s going on?” He looked from David to Emma.

“There’s a new curse,” Emma answered gently, as though explaining to a child. “It’s been a year since you all went back to the Enchanted Forest, and now everyone’s back and no one seems to remember anything about that year. We were hoping you might remember.”

Neal knew he should have been shocked or confused, but at the moment he just felt hollow. “I don’t. I’m sorry.” He noticed Captain Hook standing off to his right, watching him intently. The hollow feeling intensified. “You think a witch had me locked up?”

“Maybe. We found a house that we think is hers, and there was a cellar with a cage in it.” Emma exchanged an uneasy look with David.

Neal knew they were holding back. “But… what?” He smiled, trying to cover the anxiety blossoming in the pit of his stomach. “Come on, guys, you can tell me.”

David shook his head. “The place was empty when we got there, but we found a spinning wheel and pieces of straw that had been turned into gold. We thought the witch had Rumplestiltskin.”

Neal leaned forward. “My father’s alive?”

David nodded. “We think so. Or we thought so.”

Emma put a hand on Neal’s forearm. Even with the crazy situation unfolding around him, the warmth from her touch still shot through him. “You didn’t see him?” she said. “Maybe you did, and you didn’t realize it at the time?”

Neal closed his eyes. He remembered waking in the cage, wondering what the hell was going on. He remembered finding the gold on the floor and using it to pick the lock and then running through the woods until he saw the roof of his father’s pawn shop. The gold… there was the vaguest memory of a dream or something, of spinning straw into gold like his papa used to do. Or maybe he’d been dreaming of his papa. Whatever it was, it continued to dance around the edge of his consciousness, refusing to become clear.

“No,” he said, blowing out a frustrated breath. “It was just me. I was alone.” He looked down at his lap. “I didn’t see anyone.”

David sighed and put a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “We’d better get back to looking for the witch.”

Emma gave Neal an apologetic smile. “I’ll be back to check on you. Get some rest, okay?”

“Okay.”

Emma squeezed his hand, but instead of pulling away she reached across him and grabbed his other hand, turning it palm up to get a closer look. “Neal, what the hell is this?”

Neal felt several pairs of eyes on him as he lifted his right hand. “No idea. It was there when I woke up.”

Emma stared at the strange symbol that scarred his palm for another few seconds, then glanced over her shoulder. “Belle? Can you do some more research?”

Belle French stepped around to the side of the bed and stood next to Emma. “Yeah, absolutely.”

Neal held his hand up so that his father’s true love could take a picture of it with her phone. “Got it,” she said. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find something.” She flashed him a reassuring smile and hurried out of the room. David and the others started to follow her, and Emma moved to do the same when Neal waved at her to stop.

“Emma, can I talk to you for a minute?”

David looked back and slowed his pace, but Emma motioned for him to go on without her. She returned to Neal’s side and sat down on the edge of his bed.

“It’s good to see you again,” Neal said once everyone was out of earshot. “Even better to have you remember me.”

Emma’s smile was warm, if a little guarded. “It’s good to see you, too.”

“Has it really been a year?”

“Yeah.”

Neal nodded his head, trying to process his new reality. “When can I see Henry?”

Emma’s face fell. “Neal, I don’t—”

“I know – okay, I know I can’t just come barging back into your lives—”

“It’s not that,” Emma said quickly. They were both quiet for a moment. Emma looked him in the eyes, and Neal’s heart sank. She looked tired – no, not tired. _Weary_. Whatever she was about to tell him, it wasn’t good.

“Hook found us in New York and gave me a memory potion, but there wasn’t enough for Henry.”

Neal took a long, deep breath. “So he doesn’t remember me.”

Emma looked down. “No.”

“What does he know about his father?”

Emma still wasn’t looking at him. “The same thing I knew until a week ago, or a year ago, or however long it’s been. That you let me go to jail and never came back for me.”

“I didn’t want to,” Neal said, leaning forward to put himself in Emma’s line of sight. “I didn’t know that would happen when I left or I swear I wouldn’t—”

“I know that _now_ ,” she said, cutting him off. “But how am I going to explain that to him when he doesn’t even believe magic and curses and fairytales are real?”

Neal averted his eyes, staring instead at the scar on his palm. “Good point,” he said. “And I’m sorry again, for everything.”

“I know you are.” Emma’s expression softened, but there was still pain behind it. Pain that he had caused and continued to cause just by being in her life. How was he ever going to atone for that? And what about Henry?

“This is a mess,” he groaned. “My son has no clue who I really am; he just thinks I’m the jerk that abandoned his mom.” He sat up straighter in bed. “We have to get his memories back, we have to fix this. There has to be someone who… the Blue Fairy, or… or my father, that—”

“Neal,” Emma said, her voice almost unbearably gentle. “He was really happy in New York, with our life.”

The emptiness inside expanded until it was more like a gaping hole, swallowing his stomach, his lungs, his heart. He almost couldn’t breathe for a second. What was she trying to say?

“You don’t want him to get his memories back,” he said in quiet disbelief.

“Maybe. I know he’d be safer without them.”

Neal forced himself to control the tremor in his voice. “But I’m his father. I want him to know who I am.”

“I’m not saying he won’t ever know you. I’m just not sure he needs to know everything else. About magic and where we’re from and all that. He’d never leave if he knew.” She sighed and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “I just want to keep him safe.”

“Yeah.” Neal settled back into his bed, completely deflated. “Okay.”

“Hey,” Emma said as she stood up. “We’ll talk more about it when I come back later. Until then, take it easy.”

Neal nodded, watching her until she was out of sight. She was right. Henry was safer away from all this craziness, especially since they couldn’t even remember who had cursed them or why. So why did he feel like her admission was a punch in the gut?

He lay back in his bed for a while, counting ceiling tiles, listening to the nurses as they tended to other patients. After a half hour or so, things finally started to get quiet on his floor. He leaned forward, looking around for any sign of Dr. Whale or the other staff; satisfied that they were busy, he sat straight up and pulled out his IV.

“Leaving?”

The voice startled him, and he turned to see Hook stepping out from behind one of the curtains near his bed. Neal exhaled slowly.

“Have you been there the whole time?” He shook his head. “Forget it. What are you doing here? No one trusted me to stay put?”

The pirate shrugged. “I’m here for your protection. The witch had you locked up in her cellar. She might come back for you.”

Neal snorted and ripped off the rest of the tape where the IV had been. He winced a little as he did so. “Don’t see why a witch would care about me.”

“If Rumplestiltskin is alive, there’d be no better bait.”

Neal crumpled up the tape in his hand and set it on his tray. He stared up at Hook. “Yeah, that’s the story of my life, I guess. People using me to get to my father.”

Hook shifted uncomfortably but stayed silent. Neal half-smirked, half-sighed as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

“So how does it feel to play the hero?” he asked.

Hook’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at Neal. “Hero?”

“You brought Emma and Henry back from New York, didn’t you? To save the town?”

Hook flashed that same crooked smile Neal remembered from his time aboard the _Jolly Roger_. “Something like that,” the pirate replied. “How does it feel to play the villain?”

The hollowness from earlier returned. “I’m a villain now? How do you figure that?”

The other man’s face was impassive. “I know how desperate you were to return to your family. Last I saw you, you were heading toward the Dark One’s castle. And now we discover you were the witch’s prisoner, and you bear a strange mark on your hand. Whatever it is you can’t remember, I’d wager it isn’t good.” Hook quirked one eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you?”

Neal didn’t answer out loud, but he couldn’t help thinking that yes, that was exactly what he’d wager. The realization sent a chill through him. He stood up, turning his back to Hook as he grabbed his jacket.

“Where are you going?” Hook asked.

Neal turned and walked toward the door, only to have Hook step in his path. “I’m going to help Emma and the others look for this witch. And find my father, if he’s really alive.” He looked the pirate up and down. “Question is, are you going to stand in my way?”

The older man’s voice faltered. “I am in your way.”

_Really?_ Neal thought. _We’re going to do this now?_

Before he could respond, Hook reached out with his right arm and pulled him into the most awkward hug he’d ever experienced.

“What the hell are you doing?” Neal said after a few seconds had passed.

“This is long overdue,” Hook answered, squeezing Neal tight before finally releasing him. “Sometimes when I look at you all I see is a man. A stranger. I forget that beneath it all you’re still that boy I fished out of the sea all those years ago. A boy I wanted to love.”

Wanted to love. So that was it, huh? Hook had wanted to love him because he was Milah’s son, but ultimately… what? He was the spawn of the Dark One and therefore unlovable? Or was it him? Was Neal – Baelfire – just not worth it?

Wasn’t that what he’d always secretly feared? That everyone who left him did so not because they were bad, but because he was not good enough?

Neal pushed those thoughts down and swallowed hard as he looked into Hook’s eyes. He remembered the darkness in those eyes that night on the _Jolly Roger_ , when the pirate handed him over to the Lost Boys. “Yeah, I haven’t forgotten, Hook. I haven’t forgotten anything.”

Hook’s expression was equal parts sad and afraid. “Baelfire—”

“Look,” Neal interrupted. “You wanna do your penance, you can start by letting me go.” He raised one eyebrow as he put his jacket on. “I think you owe me that.”

Hook looked like he might try to argue, but after a few seconds he stepped aside. “Fair enough,” he said quietly.

Neal brushed past him, then hesitated at the door. “Thank you,” he said. “For bringing Emma and Henry back. I know you didn’t have to.”

Hook gave him a wry smile. “Don’t thank me yet, mate.”

Neal didn’t have time to wonder what he meant. He had a witch to find.

* * *

 

“So how are you holding up?”

The question drew Emma Swan from her thoughts. She and David had been trudging through the woods for almost an hour with no results, and after the first fifteen minutes the pair of them had fallen into a silence interrupted only by the sound of twigs and leaves being trampled underfoot. Until now.

“I’m fine,” Emma replied, eyes still focused on the forest ahead. “I mean, as good as can be expected with the Wicked Witch of the West on the loose, I guess.” She glanced over at David, only to see him giving her that knowing, fatherly look that she found so frustrating and yet also kind of awesome. “What?”

David laughed. “I was actually talking about Neal.”

Emma frowned. “Neal? Why would I be upset about Neal?”

“Emma, I saw your face after you talked to him. You told him about Henry, didn’t you?”

Emma sighed and looked away. “Yeah.”

“How did he take it?”

_Gave me that sad face that I used to never be able to say “no” to._ “Okay, I guess. I don’t know, it was hard. He’s hoping Gold can restore Henry’s memories, but…” _But what? Then we could never just go back to what we had in New York? Henry could never be a normal kid again?_

When she looked over at David, she saw that he’d had the same thoughts. “But you’re not sure you want Henry to remember. Because you want to go back to New York.”

“I don’t know what I want, other than for Henry to be happy.” Emma shook her head a few times and raised an eyebrow at David. “Can we not talk about me? I know it’s the ‘dad’ thing to do, but I’d rather hear about how things are going with you and Mary Margaret.” She nudged David playfully in the shoulder.

“Well,” David said, “we’re having a baby.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Emma gave him a small smile. “Come on, are you excited? You have to be, right?” When David didn’t respond right away Emma stopped in her tracks. “David?”

He put on a smile that wouldn’t have fooled anyone, let alone Emma. “Of course I’m excited.”

“But?”

“Why does there have to be a ‘but’?”

“Oh, come on, there was clearly an implied ‘but’ in there.”

David sighed. “I’m just worried. What if I’m not a good father?”

Emma cocked her head to one side and tried not to look too amused by his answer. _Like father, like daughter, I guess._ “You’re going to be a great father. I speak from experience.”

David didn’t seem completely reassured by her vote of confidence, but he did manage to smile. “Thanks. Not sure I deserve it, but it’s nice to hear.”

Emma started to walk again, David falling into step beside her. “Have you told any of this to Mary Margaret?”

“I don’t want to burden her; she’s already got a lot on her plate.”

“David, how do you know she isn’t having the exact same doubts? You should be talking to each other about all this.”

“She doesn’t need me dragging her down. She needs someone to be her cheerleader, like Zelena.”

“Zelena the midwife?” Emma frowned. “How’s _that_ going?”

“Good, I guess. Mary Margaret loves her.”

“How do you feel about her?”

David waved as if trying to dismiss the question. “I don’t know; anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“Sure it does. You’re allowed to have an opinion.”

“It’s not about me. I’m not the one giving birth.”

“You don’t like her?”

“I don’t _trust_ her.”

Emma felt her breath catch in her throat. David looked equally shocked by what he’d just admitted. “Why not?” Emma asked, her voice low. When he didn’t answer right away she stepped in front of him. “David, why not?”

“I don’t know, nobody seems to know her,” he replied. “I’m probably just being paranoid, with the missing year and everything.”

Panic began to rise up inside her. “What if you’re not?”

“Emma—”

“No, no, what if you’re not being paranoid? What if there’s a reason your instincts are telling you not to trust Zelena?” Emma’s thoughts were racing ahead of her, filling her head with images of “what-if?” Images of Mary Margaret alone at the apartment with her midwife, of townspeople turned into flying monkeys and Neal locked in a cellar, of the giant emerald brooch that Zelena always seemed to wear.

The color had started to drain from David’s face. “You think—?”

“—that she’s the witch?” Emma stared deep into her father’s eyes. “What do _you_ think?”

David looked away, eyes roaming the treetops as he took a couple of shaky breaths. Then suddenly he jerked his head back in the direction of the town. “Snow is with her right now.”

Without another word, David took off running, Emma close on his heels. How could they have been so blind? She’d grown up in the real world; she was supposed to be able to see through the fairytale facades.

Luckily, they’d been circling back toward town when they realized what was happening, so they didn’t have far to run before reaching David’s truck. Emma caught sight of the vehicle about fifty yards away when she heard an eardrum-piercing shriek.

“Monkey!” David yelled, drawing his sword as they both searched the sky.

“Where is it?” Emma spun in a circle, gun aimed up. Then she heard a loud thump and what sounded like a cry for help.

“Over there by the truck!” David sprinted toward the truck, raising his sword. Emma lowered her gun to get a better look at their target. The flying monkey was ramming its body against the side of the vehicle, trying to flip it over. It took her a second to figure out why – someone was under the truck.

“ _Neal_?”

As she ran she saw him look past the monkey. “Emma!”

David got to the beast first, bringing his sword down on one of its wings. The monkey howled and whirled on him, lashing out with its claws.

“David, duck!” Emma raised her gun, and as soon as David dropped to the ground, she fired three times. The monkey shuffled away from the truck, trying to get into the air. Emma fired again, clipping the animal in its already-injured wing. Despite the damage it had sustained, the monkey managed to take flight, disappearing into the woods.

Emma exhaled slowly and holstered her gun. “You guys okay?”

David stood up and brushed himself off before retrieving his sword. “I’m okay. Neal?”

Neal crawled out from under the truck and accepted the hand that David offered him. “Yeah,” he said breathlessly, leaning against the truck. “I’m okay.”

Emma sighed as she walked over to the two men. “You want to explain why you’re running around out here being chased by flying monkeys instead of resting safely in your hospital bed?”

Neal ran a hand over the back of his head. “I gotta be honest, when you guys said we were dealing with a witch, I didn’t think you meant the Wicked Witch of the West.”

David frowned. “So you _do_ know her?”

Neal exchanged a knowing look with Emma. “Me and pretty much every person in America.”

David looked confused for a couple of seconds; then it seemed to hit him. “The movie. Right.”

Emma took a step closer to Neal. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Emma, I’m fine. I’m not going to sit around in bed while you guys are out here looking for my father.”

David put a hand on Emma’s arm. “You can keep talking in the truck. We’ve got to get back to town.” He turned and opened the driver side door.

Emma gave Neal a warning look. “We are not done with this discussion.” She ran around to the passenger side and climbed into the middle seat. Neal followed after her; before he could close the door, David took off, driving as fast as he could toward town.

* * *

 

“Whoa! _That_ was a big kick.”

Mary Margaret – she still tended to call herself that here in Storybrooke – smiled as she held both hands over the lower half of her abdomen. It was reassuring to feel the baby move, especially when the entire pregnancy had been wiped from her memory. How strange it had been to wake up that first morning back in Storybrooke, having just seen Emma and Henry drive away, only to realize that at least eight months had passed since then.

Across from her, Zelena’s smile widened. “Why don’t you have a seat somewhere more comfortable?” She helped Mary Margaret down from the bar stool and led her over to a chair near the front door. “There,” she said as Mary Margaret sat down.

“Thank you.” Mary Margaret continued to rest her fingers over the spot where she’d last felt a kick. There were little flutters of movement that felt almost like popcorn popping or tiny wings beating against her skin, followed by another sharp kick. Mary Margaret grinned. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt this baby move, but it was the first time she’d experienced it without any underlying anxiety. Yes, they were under a curse, and the Wicked Witch of the West was apparently to blame, but at least this time there would be no magic wardrobe, no tearful and traumatic goodbye to her newborn baby. And it definitely didn’t hurt to have Zelena around for help.

“Do you mind if I use your wash room?" Zelena asked, breaking into Mary Margaret’s thoughts.

“No, of course not! It’s through the door just off the kitchen.”

Zelena looked toward the bathroom, then back at Mary Margaret. “Of all the inventions in this land, I think this indoor plumbing is by far the best.”

As Zelena closed the bathroom door behind her, Mary Margaret leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath. She hoped David and Emma found Gold soon. The sooner they figured out who or where this witch was, the sooner they could break the curse and try to get back some semblance of a normal life.

The front door opened suddenly, and David rushed through it, sword in hand.

“David?” Their daughter followed closely behind. “Emma? What’s—”

“Where’s Zelena?” David interrupted.

Mary Margaret saw Emma raise her gun. “In the bathroom,” she answered, trying to understand what was happening. She noticed another person standing behind Emma. “Neal?”

Emma and David approached the bathroom from opposite sides while Neal positioned himself in front of Mary Margaret. Her heart racing, Mary Margaret watched as her husband and her daughter simultaneously kicked down the doors to the bathroom. She craned her neck to see past Neal.

Zelena was gone.

David sheathed his sword and returned to the front room. He brushed past Neal and knelt down in front of Mary Margaret, taking her hands in his. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be? What’s going on?”

Emma joined them. “We think Zelena’s the witch. And after that little disappearing act, I’d say we’re right.”

Mary Margaret couldn’t take her eyes off of David. She put both hands over her abdomen. “David?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking just a little. “I didn’t trust her, and I should have told you, and I put you and the baby in danger.”

Mary Margaret shook her head. “No, you tried to tell me when you met her, but I wouldn’t listen.”

David cupped her face with his hand. “Snow…”

Hearing him say her name – her real name – caused something inside her to fall into place. “It’s really her, isn’t it? Zelena is the Wicked Witch.”

David nodded. “But I swear we’re going to stop her.”

Mary Margaret – Snow White – squeezed her husband’s hands. “I know we will.” Finally, she broke eye contact with David and looked up at Emma and Neal. “Did you find Gold?”

“No sign of him yet,” Emma said. “I’m starting to doubt he’s really alive at all.”

“There are still plenty of places he could be that we haven’t looked yet,” David said.

Emma frowned. “Maybe, but now that we know who the witch is, I think our priorities have changed.” Emma glanced somewhat apologetically at Neal. “Sorry.”

“No, I agree with you,” Neal said. “My father’s not being controlled by the witch, otherwise he would have appeared by now. He can wait.”

Snow stood up, still holding David’s hand. “We need a plan. We need to get Regina and anyone else who can possibly hope to fight the witch.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “You want to have a meeting at Granny’s while Zelena and her flying monkeys are still on the loose?”

Snow tried not to smile; Emma may have been gone a year and given twelve years of new memories, but she was still the same woman of action that Snow remembered. “It _is_ kind of our thing,” she replied. “Besides, we’ll be safer if we band together.”

“Okay, but I still think someone needs to be on patrol or something.”

“Emma…”

“David, you can guard Mary Margaret and make plans with everyone while I’m on Zelena duty.”

Snow inhaled sharply. Zelena had already taken an unusual amount of interest in her unborn child. She didn’t want to put Emma in harm’s way as well.

David interjected before Snow could protest Emma’s plan. “Emma, your mother’s right. We all need to stick together. If Zelena shows up, it’ll be better if we can all protect each other.”

Snow smiled. “Please, Emma.”

Emma sighed. “Fine. I’ll go get Henry, then I’ll meet you guys at Granny’s.”

Snow watched her daughter hurry out of the apartment, followed seconds later by Neal. She sat down again slowly, wondering if there would ever come a day when she could just spend time with Emma without being whisked off to another land or waiting for the entire town to implode. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see David gazing down at her. She reached up and squeezed his hand.

“I’m going to call the others,” he said. “Then we can head over.”

Snow nodded absently and ran a hand over her abdomen. Beneath her fingers, the baby was still.

* * *


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to diverge from canon a bit more in this chapter, especially with Zelena. She's not Regina's sister in this story. That aspect of the show just didn't work for me, so I'm trying something different here. Basically, If it doesn't line up with canon, I probably did it on purpose. ;) Enjoy!

### Chapter Two

#####  _The Enchanted Forest_

#####  _One Year Ago_

 

The castle was empty, its former inhabitants long gone. Left to gather dust, the furniture and draperies choked the light out of what was already a dreary, grim place. The Wicked Witch of the West dragged a single finger across the top of an ornate, marble dresser and stopped to study the dust she’d collected.

 “How peculiar,” she said, wiping the dirt from her hand. “Were I to enact the curse to end all curses, I think I would take my clothes and my jewelry with me.”

 The creature behind her flapped its wings and growled a question.

 “No, my pet. I have never been to this Land Without Magic. My predecessor had the means to travel there, not I. It sounds positively dreadful.” The witch picked up a round, ruby-encrusted jewelry box and considered it for a moment. “The Evil Queen must have been very motivated to endure such a place for the sake of her vengeance.”

 The flying monkey screeched a response which made the witch smile.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. She and I have that in common. But my spell isn’t about revenge, Beautiful One, as you well know.”

The witch set the jewelry box back on the dresser and walked across the room to an airy balcony overlooking the forest. Long, green fingers wrapped around the iron railing, tightening in frustration. It was just as it had been in the Dark One’s castle – not a soul to be found, nor any trace of Rumplestiltskin or his dagger. With a flick of her wrists and a twirl of her hands, the Wicked Witch conjured up an item she’d recovered from the Dark Castle. The crystal ball had only belonged to her for a few days before it was stolen from her; she was quite happy to have it back. Unfortunately, she was also starting to think it was broken.

“Show me Rumplestiltskin!” she commanded the orb, waiting for the silvery clouds within to dissipate or do _something_. The fog remained, though, just as it had the first time she tried. She fingered the emerald brooch at her throat and frowned at the crystal ball.

She was ready to fling the ball out into the woods when a new thought occurred to her. She gripped the crystal ball once again and focused her magic on it. “Show me the Evil Queen.”

The clouds swirled and parted, revealing a striking woman clothed all in black. She had dark eyes and lips red as blood; her dark hair was swept away from her face and pinned atop her head in a wildly elegant sort of way. She did not look like a woman who had satisfied her vengeance. In fact, she looked as though she hadn’t left the Enchanted Forest at all.

The witch turned to the captain of her flying monkeys and beckoned him with a single finger. “Come to me, my darling.” The monkey complied, shuffling over to her. “You see this woman? She is here somewhere. Find her, and report back to me her location.”

Her pet cackled and chittered before leaping into the air and flying out over the forest. The Wicked Witch smiled slowly. Now perhaps she would find out where Rumplestiltskin had disappeared to.  


* * *

#####  _Storybrooke, Maine_

#####  _Present Day_

 

“Emma, wait up!”

Emma slowed down and looked over her shoulder to see Neal jogging down the stairs after her. She knew he’d want to come with her, but her heart sank nonetheless.

“Neal—”

“You don’t have to tell him who I am,” Neal said quickly. “I just want to see him.”

Emma searched for the right words to convey all of the conflicting thoughts she was having – about Neal, about Henry and his memories and their life in New York. But she couldn’t open up, not without acknowledging all the pain and confusion and disappointment that she just wasn’t ready to deal with.

“Neal, why do that to yourself?” she finally answered.

His face got all twisted up with an emotion somewhere between sadness and desperation. “You _know_ why,” he said, his voice suddenly quiet.

Of course she did. If Henry didn’t remember her, that alone would kill her. But to have him go back to thinking she’d abandoned him, that she’d never wanted him in the first place when that couldn’t be further from the truth… she couldn’t bear to even imagine it.

“Okay,” she said, nodding her head toward the yellow Bug parked outside. “Let’s go.”

Neal’s smile lit up his whole face. “Thank you, Emma.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” As Emma opened the front door of the building and walked over to her car, she glanced back at Neal and quirked one eyebrow. “And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Neal put a hand on the roof of the car. “If nothing else, at least I get to take a spin in the old Bug, right?”

When Emma looked up she saw him grinning at her mischievously. He was trying to hide his nervousness – she knew him well enough to recognize the signs – but it was good to see him at least trying to be his old self.

“Yeah,” Emma said as she opened the car door and slid into the driver’s seat. “It’ll be just like old times.”

Neal dropped into the passenger seat. “If you really want it to be like old times we probably need to find a convenience store to knock off.”

“Hey,” Emma said with mock severity. “Remember who you’re talking to here.”

Neal laughed. “Sorry, Sheriff.”

Emma turned the key in the ignition and felt the engine rumble to life. “I think David’s taken that position, actually.”

“Been a _long_ time since I saw a sheriff who carried a sword. Never thought I’d see it in this world.”

“Hey, you at least grew up with this stuff being normal. It’s been two years, and I’m still having trouble accepting that all these fairy tales are real.” Emma pulled out onto the main street and drove toward the park where Henry was fishing with Leroy. “Especially after this last year in New York.”

Neal was quiet for a moment before asking, “How did you and Henry like it there?”

A small smile tugged at Emma’s lips. “It was pretty great. Normal, but in a good way. Henry loves it. He has so many friends now, friends his own age. He never had that here. And I even—” She stopped, because for a second she’d forgotten who she was talking to. She glanced over to see Neal looking at her expectantly. “I had someone. Sorry.”

To his credit, Neal didn’t cringe at that news. “Why are you sorry? Of course you did.” He paused for a second. “It’s not like _we_ were… or you even remembered…” He trailed off, making Emma wonder how he really felt about it. “Was it serious?” he finished.

Emma met his eyes briefly and raised both eyebrows. “He proposed.”

Neal looked down at his lap, then up at the dashboard. “Wow.”

“And then he turned into a flying monkey.”

The absurdity of that statement was enough to crack the tension that had started to build. Neal held back from laughing, but only barely. “Sounds intense.”

Emma pulled into a parking space near the park and cut the engine. “Go ahead and laugh. I almost married a monster from Oz, it’s hilarious.”

Neal grinned at her as he undid his seatbelt. “I almost married a minion of my evil grandfather Peter Pan. So I know what you’re saying.”

Emma couldn’t help laughing at that. How ridiculous were their lives, honestly?

As she got out of the car, Emma looked around for Henry. He was on the far side of the pond, laughing with the dwarves. He hadn’t seen her yet.

“Hey,” Neal said, looking at her across the roof the Bug. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

Emma couldn’t help being skeptical. “Really?”

Neal gave a little shrug. “I care about you, Emma. I always will. I just want you to be happy, even if it isn’t with me.” There was no jealousy or negativity in his tone. A hint of sadness, maybe. A hint of regret.

She walked around the front of the car to join Neal, thinking of how they’d first met and how this stolen yellow Bug had somehow become their home. She smiled at him, a genuine, unguarded smile that these days was usually reserved for Henry.

“We were happy,” she said, taking another step closer. “Once.”

Neal tilted his head and gave her half a smile. “We never made it to Tallahassee.”

Emma was still deciding on a response when she noticed Henry watching her from across the pond. Their eyes met, and he tilted his head as if to say, _“Who’s that guy, Mom?”_

Taking a deep breath, she looked back at Neal. “You’re sure about this?”

Neal nodded. “Absolutely.”

“He knows his dad’s name is Neal, so it’d probably be better not to call yourself that. At least not around him. He’s too smart not to put two and two together.”

“Tell me about it,” Neal said with a small smile. “Just tell him I’m Bae. It’s true enough.”

Emma returned her gaze to Henry. “Let’s go, before he starts to get suspicious.”

She began walking up the path to Henry’s fishing spot, Neal a step or two behind her. Ahead of them, Leroy and the dwarves were packing up their fishing gear and chatting with Henry, who looked truly happy to be in their company. She’d felt bad about pawning him off on the others, even if it was for good reason, so she was glad to see he’d been having a good time.

She and Neal had just stepped off the path when she heard the heavy flap of wings and felt a rush of air beat against the back of her skull. Several things happened at once: Henry screaming at her to watch out; a tingling sensation racing up her spine; the now-familiar screech of a flying monkey; and a hand on her arm that yanked her to the ground.

Emma hit the grass as the monkey hurtled through the space where her body had been a second ago. She looked up to see the beast flying toward Henry, its claws outstretched. Leroy was trying to pull him down, but her son seemed rooted to his spot, unable to believe what he was seeing.

“Henry!” she screamed, desperately searching within herself for the magic she hadn’t tapped into in over a year.

Henry finally turned away and allowed Leroy to pull him to the ground. The monkey howled again and dove at them. As Emma stretched out her hand, she saw a cloud of dark smoke envelope Henry and Leroy. The monkey faltered for a second, and in that instant Emma reached deep down and summoned every bit of her love for Henry. Magic exploded outward from her palm in a shock wave of white that smashed into the creature and sent it tumbling into the pond. Half-drowned and out of breath, the flying monkey splashed its way out of the water and flew off towards the woods.

Emma pushed herself to her feet and stumbled towards the receding smoke. “Henry? Henry!” She reached the spot as the smoke cleared, only to find Neal stretched out on top of Henry and Leroy. The other dwarves were on the ground nearby, tentatively lifting their heads to look around.

“Is it gone?” Neal asked, still covering Henry’s head and torso.

“Yeah.” Emma didn’t wait for him to move; she reached under him to grab Henry’s hands. “Henry, are you okay?”

Neal rolled to the side, allowing Henry to get up. Emma gathered him in her arms, running a hand over his head. Satisfied that he was unharmed, she took a deep breath and kissed the top of his head.

“Mom, what was that thing?” Henry’s voice was shaking, and Emma wished more than anything that she could just take him away from here and never have to risk losing him to any fairy tale monsters ever again. How could she lie to him? How could she tell him the truth?

“We’ve got to get out of here,” she said, pushing Henry in the direction of the yellow Bug. She was vaguely aware of Neal and Leroy and the dwarves following after her, murmuring amongst themselves.

Henry tried to pull away from her. “Mom, what’s going on?”

“Henry, get to the car, _now_.” Her tone was sharp, and Henry didn’t try to argue.

Once they made it to the car, Emma all but shoved Henry into the passenger seat. She’d be damned if some winged freak or sorceress was going to hurt _her_ son. Granny’s diner was suddenly sounding very appealing. Granny’s crossbow even more so.

Emma settled in behind the wheel, barely noticing that Neal had climbed into the back seat.

Henry noticed, though. “Who are you?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at Neal.

Emma glanced in her rearview mirror. Neal looked a little shell shocked, so she answered for him. “This is… Bae.” She’d almost forgotten not to call him Neal. She started the car and took off for Granny’s. Behind her, the dwarves piled into their cars and followed.

Henry was still staring at Neal. “You saved me.”

“Your mom saved you,” Neal corrected, his voice huskier than usual. Emma’s stomach clenched as she remembered the dark smoke – similar to the magic she’d always associated with Regina and Mr. Gold – covering Henry. She hadn’t done that. If she didn’t know better, she might have believed Neal had teleported himself to protect Henry.

Henry didn’t try to contradict Neal. He faced forward, eyes staring off into space. After a few minutes Emma pulled onto Main Street. She parked in front of Granny’s. “Can you give us a minute?” she said, turning to look at Neal. He nodded and exited the car silently, ambling up the path to the diner.

“Mom,” Henry said, his tone more serious than she could remember ever hearing it. “What is going on?”

Emma’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I don’t think I can explain.”

“Try.”

_How? How am I supposed to make him believe when I barely want him to?_

“Henry,” she said, letting go of the wheel and taking her son’s hand in hers. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Do you _believe_ in me?”

Henry’s hand twitched in hers, but he didn’t pull away. “Yes.”

Emma took a deep breath. “Good. What I’m about to tell you is going to sound completely crazy, but it’s also true.”

“Okay.” Henry’s voice faltered. What was he expecting to hear?

“Everyone in this town is a fairy tale character. They were brought here by a curse. And I have to save them.”

Henry didn’t react at first. She heard his breathing quicken, felt his fingers trembling in hers. She remembered the feeling of helplessness and panic she’d experienced when August asked her to believe. Up until then the idea of the curse had been a child’s invention or the ravings of a lunatic kidnapper – a fantasy meant to fill the gaps of a lonely life. To have a sane, grown man insist that she was from another world and that she was the only hope… it had terrified her. She recognized that growing terror in Henry’s eyes.

“Mom,” he whispered, “you’re not making any sense.”

Emma squeezed his hands. “I know, but it’s the truth. We had a life here, a life you don’t remember.”

Henry pulled his hands away slowly and swallowed hard. “Is that why everyone seems to know me and keeps looking at me and whispering all the time?”

“Yes.” She tried not to show how hurt she was that he’d pulled away. After all, he had every right to be freaked out and angry. “And that creature that attacked us in the park was a flying monkey.”

“A flying monkey? From _The Wizard of Oz_?” Henry laughed, but his expression was a combination of disbelief and disgust. “Come on, Mom, what’s next? A dementor?”

Emma’s thoughts flitted to the wraith that had attacked Regina after the first curse broke. Now probably wasn’t the best time to mention that to Henry.

“I know. I know it sounds crazy, kid, believe me. But how else would you explain what happened today?”

Henry shook his head. “I’m going back to the room.”

“Henry, wait!”

His hand was on the door handle, ready to open it. “Please. Just let me go.”

Emma didn’t say another word, just watched helplessly as her son ran into Granny’s. She sat in silence for a minute or so before getting out of the car and walking toward the diner. As she approached the front door, Neal stepped outside.

“You okay?” he asked.

Emma shook her head. “Later,” she said, reaching for the door knob. She wanted to get through this meeting, defeat the witch, and get back to a normal life.

* * *

 

The light of the setting sun stretched out across Storybrooke, branding the town, the bay, and the surrounding forest in deep oranges and reds. From a hill overlooking the town, the Wicked Witch of the West watched this sunset and waited.

The sound of claws scratching at dirt drew her attention. Zelena turned and smiled faintly at her winged servant. “What news, Beautiful One?”

The monkey howled and shrieked, lifting its wing for her to inspect. With a flick of the wrist she healed the beast.

“That is the last time I mend you, unless you succeed in finding me the dagger.”

The monkey bowed its head, wings flattened against its back. It chittered softly, both apologetic and curious.

“No,” Zelena answered. “I must have the Dark One first, or all of this will have been for nothing. Do you understand?”

Her servant nodded, grunting enthusiastically. “Good. Now go find the dagger before those miserable wretches discover its missing.”  


* * *

 

Regina Mills tapped her foot impatiently as she stood at the far end of the counter in Granny’s diner. Snow White, her prince, and the dwarves – or what remained of them – were already gathered, as were Dr. Hopper, Ruby Lucas and her grandmother, and the bandit Robin Hood. Tinker Bell entered the diner from the back stairwell and immediately made her way over to join Regina. The mayor of Storybrooke nodded at the fairy in greeting, then turned to face Snow.

“You said this was urgent,” she said, her tone sharp. “Would someone care to explain?”

Snow exchanged a look with Charming. “We’re still waiting on Emma.”

Before Regina could respond, the door opened. Henry hurried past the assembled crowd, visibly shaken and avoiding eye contact. Regina had to resist the urge to go after him; after all, he didn’t remember who she was. She heard him run up the back steps, probably heading to his room at the inn. A moment later, Emma Swan walked through the front door, followed by Henry’s birth father, Neal Cassidy. They were quiet as they sat down in separate booths, Emma joining her parents and Neal stretching out in the booth adjacent to theirs. What had they done to make Henry so upset?

“Now can you tell us what’s going on?” Regina uncrossed her arms and sat down on one of the bar stools.

Snow’s mouth was set in a grim line. “Zelena is the witch.”

It took a second for Regina to recognize the name. “Wait, your midwife? How?”

“I don’t know; David and Emma just knew somehow.”

“Call it a gut instinct,” Emma interrupted. “One that turned out to be right, judging by how quick she was to vanish from the apartment when we showed up.”

“So now that we know who she is, how do we defeat her and get our memories back?” Ruby piped up from behind the counter.

Regina’s first thought was of the empty cage and the gold on the floor of the witch’s cellar. “We need to find Gold.”

“That might be a problem.”

Every head turned as Belle French entered the diner carrying a large and rather ancient-looking book. Captain Hook was also in tow, and Regina could tell from his expression that whatever news Belle had, it wasn’t good.

“Belle,” Emma said, rising from her booth. “What did you find?”

Belle clutched the book to her chest. “The symbol on Neal’s hand – it’s from an ancient talisman. A key that opens the Vault of the Dark One.”

Regina knew very little about the curse of the Dark One or how exactly Rumplestiltskin had come to be under its influence. She had certainly never heard of the Vault of the Dark One. “What about it?” she said, catching glares from both Belle and Emma.

The bookworm continued. “I think Neal may have used it to resurrect Rumple, back when we were in the Enchanted Forest.”

Emma spun around to face Neal. “ _You_ brought Gold back?”

Rumple’s son opened his mouth to answer, but Belle beat him to it. “That’s where it gets unclear,” she said, opening the book and laying it out on the closest table. She ran a finger over a section of the text. “The vault will only restore the Dark One in exchange for another life.”

“Whoa, hang on a minute, what?” Emma nudged Regina out of the way to get a better look at the book. She blew out an exasperated breath – probably because the passage was written in a language not known in this world.

Belle wasn’t looking at Regina or Emma or the book anymore. She was staring across the diner at Neal, who was sitting there with his head bowed and eyes closed.

“It’s a one-for-one trade,” Belle said. “If Neal used that key, he should be dead right now.”

Everyone in the room went completely still. Even Regina felt a weight descend upon her at the revelation. What had happened in the Enchanted Forest? Had Neal simply failed to bring Rumple back, or was she looking at a doomed man?

Neal opened his eyes and stared down at his hands. The lack of any other reaction seemed strange to Regina, but then she hardly knew the man.

Emma, however, looked to be on the verge of panic. She crossed the room and slid onto the bench across from Neal. Her voice was concerned and weary when she spoke. “Neal? What did you do?”

Neal met Emma’s eyes, and for a brief moment Regina felt as though they were all intruding upon something deeply personal. When he did open his mouth to speak, there was something in his voice and manner that reminded her of Henry and of the last conversation they’d had before Storybrooke disappeared from this land.

“I think I killed him,” Neal said quietly.

Regina’s eyebrows shot up. She hadn’t expected _that_.

Belle sat down next to Emma. “Why would you think that?” she said in an almost motherly fashion.

Neal was still looking into Emma’s eyes, mouth open as he searched for an explanation. And even though Regina didn’t know Henry’s father very well, she had a hard time believing he could kill anyone, let alone his own father. Unless…

_Son of a bitch._

“The only way to kill the Dark One is with his dagger,” Regina said. “If you killed him—”

“—you’d be the new Dark One,” Belle finished.

Emma’s face fell. “Neal,” she whispered.

The whipped-puppy look on his face was too much for Regina to take. She rolled her eyes and looked away. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she said impatiently. “Nobody remembers what happened. For all we know, he failed to even bring Rumplestiltskin back, and you’re all worrying over nothing.”

“No,” Emma said, breaking eye contact with Neal to look up at Regina. “It’s not nothing, Regina. We were attacked by flying monkeys on our way to pick up Henry—”

“ _What_?!”

“—and before I could use my magic, Neal saved Henry. He traveled over twenty yards in a _second_.”

Regina looked at Neal. “You used magic?”

His eyes rose to meet hers. “I think so. Yes.”

Snow had been silent for the last few minutes, so Regina was a little surprised to hear her speak up. “Then you are the Dark One,” she said. There was little mistaking the sadness in her voice.

“This is all very fascinating,” Regina said, “but if Neal is the new Dark One then our problems just multiplied.”

“Why?” Emma asked.

Regina tried to suppress the shiver that made its way up her spine. “Because the Wicked Witch of the West is still out there, and we don’t know where the dagger is.”  


* * *

 


End file.
